Damaged
by EinsteinHawking
Summary: When you love someone...you really f**king love them. EPIC COUPLES TRIBUTE. Romance and friendship. Warning: Vulgar language but overall suitable for teens.  ON HOLD
1. In The Aftermath

Chapter 1

In The Aftermath

_I let it fall, my heart, _

_And as it fell you also claim it,_

_It was dark and I was alright, _

_Until you kissed my lips and you saved me, _

_My hands, they're strong,_

_But my knees were far too weak..._

_I set fire to the rain,_

_Watch it pour as I touch your face, _

_Let it burn while I cry, _

_Cause I heard it screaming your name._

_Adele – Set Fire To The Rain _

Eight months ago she'd come back from Italy, went back to college and finally gotten with Freddie, the one person she loved so much it fucking terrified her.

Five months ago she'd succumbed to psychotic depression, it had always been there, she'd felt it, pressing down on her, the voice in the back of her head chipping away at her, she'd buried it for so long, arrogantly thinking she could handle her own problems but being with Freddie had ruined her, her depression had fed on the agonising thought that it was all too good to be true, that something bad was going to happen, that eventually he'd realise just how damaged she was and not want anything to do with her.

He'd grow to hate her and she'd have her heart crushed -_again_. She didn't know what she'd do if that happened. There were times when Freddie would have to go out to get food or whatever where she would sit and drink herself away, without eating or sleeping, slowly convincing herself that he was actually a figment of her imagination, the shadows, the heavy smell of death, their gnashing teeth, they were real, Freddie wasn't.

She'd often huddled herself into a corner and just sobbed for hours and hours, sometimes he'd come home to find her like that, he'd called himself a prick, hugged her, told her it was going to be alright, that he was there for her, she'd wanted to believe him but the voices hadn't let her.

Four months ago she'd slit her wrists, Freddie had finally admitted he couldn't take care of her all by himself and her mother had sent her to a mental institution, they didn't call it that, although everyone knew that's what it was. Panda had come to see her everyday, so did Naomi, Emily and even Katie, Cook had been in prison and she hadn't let Freddie into see her, partly because he made her weak and she'd hadn't known if she'd be able to fight them with him there, plus she hadn't wanted him to see her like that.

Three months ago she'd started thinking that maybe her doctor John Foster wasn't who he said he was, he'd seemed genuine at first but then he'd asked she pretend that bad things in her life –Tony's accident, her parent's divorce, Freddie's treatment of her after the whole thing with Katie in the woods, hurting Cook- didn't happen. She'd done as he asked, albeit reluctantly, and found herself believing it. She'd blamed everyone else for her problems, particularly Freddie, she'd pushed him away, like John had wanted, and ended up forgetting who she was. She'd nearly gotten herself killed trying to remember.

Two months ago Freddie had gone missing, he hadn't turned up for his birthday and four days after that Cook had disappeared too. She'd trashed her room, broke a mirror, thrown her indie-rock CD collection against the wall, burnt her clothes, drank herself numb, OD'd on her anti-depressants and had landed herself in hospital for the umpteenth time.

A week ago Cook had been sentenced to four years in prison, -on top of that the eleven months he'd earned through bashing that poor sod's brains in at that party- he'd been convicted of the murder of Dr. John Foster, the man she soon learned had killed Freddie.

And now she really was fucking losing it. She'd stopped eating, sleeping, laughing, talking, it was as if her entire body was just shutting down, she couldn't feel anything anymore, life was pointless, wasn't it? You lived and for what? For God's sick amusement? And then finally the bastard would kill you but not before he took everything away from you first! Not before he screwed you over. Some merciful prick he is.

Effy stood in the middle of a field, it was August and the grass had yellowed from the constant sun Bristol had received as of late, she couldn't feel the heat on her skin though, the noises of the traffic and people talking went through her in a blur, for a moment she swore the world went grey, she even thought it might rain, she liked the rain, it reminded her of _him_. God, she missed him. His chocolate brown eyes, always so warm, even when he was angry, his boyish grin, the one that rarely left his face. His beautiful face.

She lifted her head to the sun, a tear rolled down her cheek, before she'd have wiped it away, convinced herself she was fine, because Effy Stonem knew that crying was for the weak, and the weaker you were the more easy it was for people to hurt you. Now she didn't give a shit. She needed him here. With her. Christ, she couldn't live without him!

"Give him back!" she yelled to the perfect blue sky, "Give him back, you fucking cunts! He's mine! You hear me? He's mine and I want him back now!" she sucked in a breath as more tears came, "I'm not moving." she whispered, "I'm here, Freddie, and I'm not moving."

"Who's Freddie?"

She spun around to find a girl, maybe a year or two younger than herself, with auburn-brown hair cut short, she had on a fair amount of dark eyeshadow and dressed like a bloke, most people would've taken one look at her and figured she was a circus freak. Effy knew better. From the pained look in the girl's eyes they were two sides of the same coin.

"He's my boyfriend." she choked out, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, she offered the girl one,

"Thanks. I'm Franky by the way." she said, as she plucked the 'death stick' out the pack,

"Effy."

"Take it he left you then? That's all they ever do, isn't it? People? They just up and leave."

Effy turned to glare at the girl but found herself unable to do so, you had to feel something to be able to do that, anger, hurt, loathing, fear, something, anything, all she felt was this big hole in her chest, ripping her apart, getting wider and blacker everyday, she felt empty, void and null,

"No."

"Then what happened?" Franky asked tentatively, seeming genuinely concerned, which was unlikely considering they'd only just met.

Even her bloody parents didn't care about her problems, why should some stranger who seemed just as screwed up as she was?

"He died." Effy managed, taking a long drag of her cigarette and biting back more tears, her eyes were red and raw, she'd honestly thought she couldn't cry anymore, turns out she was wrong, not surprising, she usually got things arse about face, "I went mad and he tried to help, my psychiatrist didn't like him, so he offed him. That's what happened." she said, venomously.

Franky was staring at her, eyes wide with horror, guilt, pity, every ugly emotion Effy hated seeing aimed her way, she'd grown somewhat accustomed to it the past month though,

"He was a stupid prick." she muttered, Effy opened her arms out wide and looked up to the sky again, "Aren't you, Freds? Stupid, fucking, bastard-ing, wanking, shitheaded prick! I told you! I told you! I'm poison and now you're dead and I'm..." she trailed off, "I don't know what the hell I am anymore."

There was a moment of silence, before Franky spoke up, her voice low and thoughtful,

"You really loved him, didn't you?"

Effy turned to face her and she knew her expression was answer enough,

"I've never felt that way about anyone, it must be nice though, to care about something that much."

"It isn't!" she snapped, walking over to the her, "I've never been so scared in my life. It's horrible. And now this..."

Franky's brow furrowed, her brown eyes flickered to the side, as if thinking of something, she slipped her hand into her black oversized blazer and pulled out a silver bottle, handing it to Effy, the older girl took it, sniffed it and recognised its contents as the lovely smell of Jack, a smell that made her think of Cook, who was rotting away in a cell because of her.

She took a long swig before handing it back and collapsed to her knees, letting out a shaky breath,

"I can't do it on my own. Not without him."

The other girl took the seat next to her and the pair sat there, staring out at the shithole of a town without saying so much as two words to one another. Or at least they had, until Franky broke the deafening quiet,

"Do you ever think that maybe there is somebody up there? Some tosser who just wants to see us suffer? Do you ever think this is really Hell?" the younger girl asked,

"All the time." Effy replied, finishing off her cigarette, "But I'll tell you something..."

"What?"

"I give up."

With that Effy stood and walked out into the road.

Franky's eyes widened as she saw the on-coming truck going far too fast to stop, she got to her feet, opened her mouth to shout at Effy to move but it was too late, the truck came crashing into her tiny frame, crushing her, blood splatters flew everywhere, there was screaming, other cars ground to a halt as they realised a girl had been killed.

She bit her lip, unsure what to do, Franky staggered back, clutching her stomach, afraid she might be sick, the girl she had just met, with whom she'd had probably the deepest conversation of her life, the girl who she'd felt really understood her, now lay in the middle of the concrete, a mangled, bloodied mess. Then across the street she noticed something.

Squinting she saw the a young lad with dark skin and hair as messy as his clothes were baggy, his arms wound around a sobbing, laughing girl with long, dark curls pulled back into a pony, the t-shirt she wore as a dress three sizes too big. Franky's heart sped up as she recognised the girl.

The last thing she needed was to find out she could see ghosts. But at least Effy and Freddie were together.

Even if it meant them both being dead.


	2. Fractures

**A/N: Although I tried to get Tony's character right, I think he turned out a little bit like Cook at times. Anyway, tell me what you think and if you didn't like him or Cassie, I'll do my best to fix them. _Frui! _**

* * *

Chapter 2

Fractures

He couldn't believe it. Of all the reasons he imagined himself coming back here to this shithole _that_ had never been one of them, she was the only one he really cared about, none of the others really mattered to him.

She was fucked up and he'd always known he should never have left her, he also knew that if that prat of a boyfriend of hers hadn't gone and gotten himself killed then Effy would still be a alive, she might have been in a mental institution or off her face on drugs half the time, but either way it was better then...he didn't want to think about it anymore. He couldn't. His parents were already losing the plot as it was, arguing one minute and sobbing in each other's arms the next, what would she think if he broke down like them?

Tony gave the faintest, weakest of smiles and shook his head, Effy would have glared at him, told him to stop being such a pussy and walked away, that's what she did, it's who she was. Like the paper used to roll a joint. She kept everything neatly together and the second she's gone everything begins to fall apart. He could see it. His life, his parent's lives and everyone else's who knew her, all unravelling.

He'd broken his fist, having smashed in a wall in his old bedroom, _her_ bedroom, he'd taken a fair amount of ecstasy too, washing it down with the bitter taste of vodka, it would numb him for a while at least.

Standing in front of Effy's floor length mirror, he stared at his reflection, his eyes were red from crying, there were dark shadows there from lack of sleep, they were cold and void, much like how he felt inside, there was a trace of dark stubble grazing his jaw, his whole face seemed slack, sunken in. Old. As if he were forty not twenty. His stomach was churning, feeling the bile rise in his throat he ran out the door and down the hall to the bathroom, where he collapsed to his knees, throwing up in the toilet. He sat on the cold tiled floor for a moment, coughing up the remains of...well, whatever the last bloody thing he ate was, eventually he stood, pulled the chain and brushed his teeth.

Tony's hands clasped the sink so tightly his knuckles had turned white, he was afraid he'd fall if he let go, once again he was faced with looking at himself, thank God Eff couldn't see the state he was in.

He was her big brother for crying out loud, he was supposed to be able to protect her, why the fuck hadn't he been able to do that? Why hadn't he been there? He ought to have bloody been there! It's not like she hadn't tried it before. She's slit her wrists and OD'd on meds the _doctors _had given her, not to mention all the other shit she'd tried, so what the hell was he thinking not coming back for her earlier? She was right. He was a prick.

With shaky hands Tony loosened his tie before running the tap and splashing his face with the cool water, he took a deep breath, his hands wound in fistful of his hair, he screamed, kicking the cotton washing basket over, he knocked the bottle of shampoo and body spray onto the floor, causing a clatter that he could barely hear past his panic-stricken thoughts. Effy was gone. The only real thing he gave a damn about was gone and he had no idea how in hell he was going to be able to cope.

There was a faint knock at the door, he said nothing, thinking it was his mum or dad and they'd bugger off, but then the door opened and he caught a glimpse of blonde peeking through the doorway,

"I...um...heard what happened. I'm really sorry. You're mum let me in..." she gave a small, sheepish smile, "Oh, wow, I didn't even bother asking if you were decent."

He wiped his mouth self-consciously, despite staring straight at her, it seemed as if he were looking through her, his eyes as dead as his sister. Tony cleared his throat, attempting to discreetly dry his eyes without ruining his suit,

"Thought you were in New York?"

"Oh, yeah, I was but...um, it was really awkward, you know, like with Sid being here and me thousands of miles away. I sort of wish I'd come back sooner. Effy was cool. Had this sparkle to her."

Cassie hadn't changed much in the four years since he'd last seen her, she was still the tall, skinny, dreamy blonde he remembered, she hadn't put on any weight and he found himself wondering if she was still suffering from an eating disorder.

"She did, didn't she?" he murmured, sitting down on the toilet seat, his head in his hands, as if the mere motion could rid himself of his ever-growing headache.

She entered the room and he could see that if anything she'd gotten smaller, she wore a simple black dress with a high neckline, white socks trimmed with lace and black brogues, Cassie had always had a unique style but her clothes were clearly far too big for her, her tiny frame was even more prominent than before. From the looks of it if she so much as slipped and fell into the tub every bone in her emaciated arse would break. He couldn't understand why girls like her did that to themselves, she was already pretty as it was, it's not like she was some dog-ugly, boring Marilla Cuthbert.

"Why are you here, Cass? You didn't know Effy. She hardly spoke most of the time." he said, remembering how his sister used to command respect without saying two words, how she could stand in the middle of nowhere and do nothing, just contemplate how screwed up everything is. She was quite the philosopher, Eff.

"Wow. You're right. Definitely didn't know her. Friends, I guess. Me and you."

"Yeah. Course we are." he scoffed, sardonically, his expression lightly patronising, "Bollocks, Cass, we all know you came for the food."

The blonde swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably before breaking out into a very forced grin,

"Defo. Food. Yum."

He stared at her, his face impassive, yet there was an unmistakable disbelieving glare in his eyes. Did she really think he was stupid enough to think she was really eating? Well, he supposed she _was_ with Sid and he had the same mental capacity as a wooden plank.

"Right then." he stood, acting as though everything was fine, he realised that if he was going to get through this, he was going to have to surround himself with people, not because he needed their support but because he'd be more inclined to compartmentalise his anguish.

Fuck what therapists said; bottling it up did wonders. Besides therapists were all knobheads anyway, look at that prick Foster for Christ's sakes!

"Let's get this fucking party started." he reached in behind the toilet and pulled out a little plastic bag filled with weed and roll-ups, "Send Effy off the way she would have wanted."

Tony made his way back into the bedroom, he smirked when he found Effy's iPod in one of her drawers, along with a couple of packs of ecstasy pills, a Zippo lighter, condoms and her digital camera. He popped a couple of the pills, than lit his spliff, and set the iPod in it's docking station, turning it up full blast as Katy B pulsated through the speakers, loud enough that he could feel the reverberations through the floorboards, it wasn't much of a surprise to him that she'd have far better taste in music than anyone he knew. She was his sister after all.

He turned to Cassie, offering her some of the spliff, she hesitated, he could see her wondering how bad it would look the pair of them coming –ha, he had to laugh at that!- down the stairs completely off their faces, he shook the fag in front of her, urging her to take it. She did, inhaling the drug and smiling at him.

Tony took another drag, letting go, he began dancing to the beat of the trance-like music, not that he was any good, but he didn't care, his head was the most beautiful fucking haze he'd ever known it to be. He couldn't think straight, not really, and he was glad, thinking was overrated anyway.

Cass followed suit, swaying from side to side, she ran her hands through her hair, then spun around, her arms outstretched as she laughed, she made her way over to him, plucking up a couple of pills,

"I really loved her, you know?" he shouted over the noise, "She was my sister. She was Effy. She walked into a room and it lit up." he didn't realise that he was crying until Cassie's brow furrowed and she hugged him,

"I know, Tony."

He rested his head against her shoulder, sobbing so hard it rattled him, he was physically shaking, trembling, he was scared, Effy was the only one who really saw him, she knew he didn't want to be the wanker that he was, with her it was easy, he had to put on the tough, big, grown-up boy act but with her he could relax because he knew full well she was just as messed up as he was.

"I'm scared, Cass." he admitted, tearfully, his voice gruff and aggravated.

She led him to the bed, pulling him down to sit next to her, she folded her skeletal fingers around his,

"I don't know what to do." she replied, he looked up, his grey-green eyes searching her face frantically, he needed someone to show him how to cope, he couldn't do it by himself, "Do you want me to call Sid? He was meant to come with me but his mum needed help with someth-" she was cut off when he suddenly, out of nowhere kissed her, his mouth crashing against hers with enough force to bruise.

It was needy and angry. He expected her to push him away but she didn't. Their tongues intertwined and she pulled him on top of her, his hands slipped up under her dress, groping the gaunt thighs she wrapped around his waist as he ground himself against her, his head screaming not to be too rough, she wasn't like other girls, or guys for that matter, Cass was immensely breakable, mentally and physically.

Tony tried to ignore the fact that he was still crying, keeping his eyes firmly on Cassie's face as looking anywhere else would remind him that he was about to fuck his best friend's girlfriend in his dead sister's room. Effy had been right. He was a wanker.


	3. Dead

Chapter 3

Dead

Grey brick walls. Grey steel bars. Grey uniform. All in all prison was a pretty fucking bleak place, made even more miserable by not only its guards but also its inmates, all of them were boring shits with sombre faces and little backbone. Not Cook. He was determined to let anything bring him down, not this place, not Freddie's death, not the fact that the grief was probably killing Eff, because he knew he'd get out of here one day, and as for Freds? Well, he was family, he was his best mate, he wasn't really gone, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself, however the fact that he cried himself to sleep most nights made him think otherwise.

That fucking sneaker! He couldn't get the image out of his head. The word _Freddie_ written on the sole of his favourite pair of shoes, covered in his blood. It made Cook's stomach churn, made him feel sick. The only good thing he got out of this was that John Foster was rotting six feet under, no longer with the title 'doctor' but instead 'sadistic, mental-bastard, homicidal prick'.

He was dreading seeing Effy again, certain that the anguished look on her face would break whatever was left inside him. He hoped she was okay. She had to be; she was strong and brave and the most beautiful head-fuck thing in the world to him. It might take her a while, years, but she'd move on. She'd never forget him. Who would? But she'd cope. He needed her to.

Cook sat in his cell in solitary. Having murder a psychopathic cunt -who had a baseball bat- with his bare hands meant the other inmates gave him some peace at least, he wasn't nearly as hard as some of them there, but he was tough enough to hold his ground, allowing him to eat his meals without some big brute coming up to him and demanding beating him to a pulp before demanding a blow-job. The eighteen year old shivered. Prison was a scary place.

At twenty-eight minutes past two in the afternoon the guards came to tell him he had a visitor, half of him hoped it was Effy, the other wanted it to be his little brother Paddy, the only decent thing to have ever come from his pitiful family. The burly Irish guard, Officer Finnigan, escorted him to the visiting area, where there were rows of tiny booths with rickety old chairs and thick panels of class separating the prisoners from their loved ones. Finnigan left him at number eleven and he was surprised to see a head of platinum blonde hair. He frowned. What on earth was she doing here? They didn't get on at the best of times!

"Naomi?" he said, taking his seat.

He noted she looked paler than usual, her face contorted into some kind of silent apology, he still had no idea what brought her here,

"Cook...how are you?" her voice was tentative, as if she didn't want the answer, he shrugged,

"Alright. I guess, I mean considering."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest,

"I'm really sorry. After everything you've been through, first with Freddie and now this...I'm really...I just...It's awful."

"It's not all bad, I got a TV in me cell. Sort of like being back home, you know? Only without me mate Jack and, of course, the sex." he winked at her, she pulled a completely disgusted and slightly confused face, "Besides...it helps sometimes. Don't 'ave time to think about Freds and all that shit if I'm trying not to get me head knocked off." he gave her a grin, but even he knew his usual cocky, light-heartedness wasn't in it, if anything it was broken. He missed him.

Naomi shifted uncomfortably,

"You're doing pretty well, then?" she said, sarcastically, "Cook, I know you want be a big boy and bottle it all up but eventually it's going to drive you mad!"

He winched at that last word. Mad. Remembering Effy in the middle of road about to be hit by a car, luckily he'd been there to pull her out of the way, he didn't want to think what might have happened had it hit her. Seeing her look so terrified and ready to die still scared him. The way she acted after he broke down in tears and told her what Foster had done to Freddie. They sat in the shed, Cook covered in blood, Effy in Freddie's shirt, and sobbed, the both of them wondering how the fuck they could carry on without him...or at least they had until the cops came.

"How is she?" he asked suddenly, "Eff?"

"Wh-? I thought...hadn't you heard?"

"Heard what? Nobody's rang me or came to see me or anything! You're the first person I've spoken to in weeks."

She sucked in a shallow breath, covering her mouth with her hand,

"Oh god!" she whispered, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

"What?" he demanded to know, starting to get worried.

Eff was alone. She was vulnerable. Her parents were useless, like most, but who else did she have? Freddie was gone...dead, he was in prison, Panda was oblivious to everything, and nobody else really gave two shits about her. His breathing started to becoming a little unstable. He could feel it. Something had happened. Something bad.

"Why are you here Naoms? Not a sight nor sound from anyone in ages so why are _you_ here?"

The blonde shook her head, unable to look at him, she rubbed her sweaty hands on her jeans,

"Naoms? Naoms? _Why the fuck are you here_?" he shouted causing the guard to come over to him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his baton,

"Is there a problem here, miss?" Finnigan asked, she swallowed hard,

"N-no. No." she croaked out, with one last glare at Cook the guard left. The boy was visibly shaking with worry now, he leaned towards her, his fists clenched, his posture pleading,

"Where's Effy?"

"She's dead." she finally admitted, defeated.

He leaned back in his seat, frowning angrily,

"That's not funny."

"It's not a joke!"

"Alright, then, phone her! Go on. If it's not a joke then prove it and phone her!"

Naomi pulled out her phone, he watched as she fiddled about with it, praying to god she'd put it to her ear and he'd hear Eff's voice through the speaker. She didn't. Instead she slipped through the hole in the glass. He stared down that the screen that had gone black, afraid of what he'd find.

He didn't want to see this. He couldn't take it.

Losing Freddie was bad enough but he didn't think he could handle losing her as well. He couldn't lose her. She was one of the few people in the world that had said she loved him, one of the very few and far between who didn't think he was waste of space, a pointless shit. He loved her. He loved Freddie. How the hell was he going to cope without them if what Naomi was telling him was the truth? And why wouldn't it be? She wasn't the type of sick person to lie about that sort of thing. Besides hadn't he felt it? The moment her name left his mouth that something was missing.

Cook hesitantly picked up the phone, his thump pressing down on the button that relit the screen, his heart stopped, he sucked in a sharp breath as tears flooded his eyes. There, on the screen, was a picture of a grave covered in flowers, blue forget-me-nots and white roses, her famous leather jacket draped over the headstone which read: _Elizabeth 'Effy' Stonem. Born March 10th 1993, died August 23rd 2010 aged 17. Beloved daughter, sister and friend. We miss you and hope things are better for you now. _

Everything hurt. Every limb, every nerve ending, every tiny molecule of his being ached. It was the pain in his chest though that was the worst, for a second he actually thought he'd been shot, he almost wished he had.

"The funeral was four days ago. The service was how she'd have wanted it. They played Nirvana."

Cook gave a small laugh, though it marred but his crying and the bitterness of his tone. He wondered what the Stonems would think of having _Rape Me_ played at they're daughter's...he couldn't even think the word, when he thought of Eff, he thought of, well, all the things that made this hellhole bearable.

"She was buried next to him. Freddie."

The young lad wiped his eyes roughly with his fists,

"How?" he asked, sounding completely broken, "How'd she...you know?"

Naomi looked away,

"Killed herself. Walked out in front of a truck apparently."

He covered his face in shame, shaking his head vigorously, after a while he took his hands away to slam his fist down on the desk of the booth,

"I should 'ave been there! I could 'ave stopped her! I could 'ave helped her, made her better!" he sobbed,

"I don't think you could, Cook." Naomi slipped her arm through the hole, taking his hand in hers, caressing his knuckles with her thumb,

"Do you think she's happy now? Do you think she's with Fredster?"

"Wouldn't know, not really religious. Though anywhere's a whole lot better than this dump!" she was silent for a moment, before she looked up at him,

"Freddie always said he wanted to be Muslim. He wanted ten thousand virgins." Cook tried to make a joke but failed, rather miserably, still for his sake Naomi forced a quiet laugh which quickly dried up when he broke down again, his fingers holding onto hers with such a fierce, anguished grip it hurt.

"I'm sorry, Cook." she murmured.


End file.
